Imaginative painter Julie Heffernan divulges the intricacies of her painting process and the image streaming she uses to dive deep into her subconscious and create stunningly detailed pieces.
Self-Portrait with Daughters (2019), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 79" x 56"
Marjorie Martay–
I’m delighted to be talking today to Julie Heffernan who is a wonderful artist. I am so excited to be having this discussion today with you Julie. I’ve admired your work for many years so it’s wonderful to have this opportunity to include you in the “Women: We Create” blog. One of the interesting things about you, Julie, is that you went to one of the finest schools to get your MFA which is Yale School of Art and Architecture. You graduated in 1985. You followed up that year with a Fulbright-Hays Grant, and went to another wonderful place, Berlin! I am actually doing my second experiential journey for “Women: We Create” in Berlin, hopefully in October– the second week. But one never knows how things will turn out with the coronavirus.
Julie Heffernan–
Will you be doing the same thing– interviewing female artists?
Marjorie Martay–
Yes, the whole idea behind “Women: We Create” is to honor exceptional women in the arts across disciplines inclusive of and beyond visual arts– theatre, music, dance, writing and the culinary arts. It’s across the board. These are women who I think have made major contributions to our cultural landscape. What I’m doing is a “salon” like experience with many of them, and we might honor between 7 to 10 women. We have these great conversations in different locations!
Julie Heffernan–
Terrific! I can’t wait to hear who they are and listen in.
Marjorie Martay–
Berlin has been delayed with everything. Our trip to England was a very curated, intimate experience with 10 people on the trip. I have to say I thought it was pretty terrific. I’d love to know– how are you doing with the quarantining for the coronavirus?
Julie Heffernan–
Well! On a day like this, you really wonder how you’re doing. Artists are used to artists residencies. Many of us have been fortunate enough to get away to far flung places. If you are lucky, you get some good work done and you spend a lot of time in your head. So, on the best level, this is not so different from that. There is nothing I love more than having endless hours to stay focused on my projects and that’s what I’m doing now. I am also lucky enough to have my husband and two sons here, who are 23 and 28. The 28 year-old is a musician– his band is called “Bellows.” He’s an incredibly wonderful musician. He’s got a Song-a-Day project going. My younger son is in the University of Michigan Ann Arbor graduate program in Ecology, but he’s finishing classes here now, with us. My husband teaches at Hunter in the Theatre Department. For all intents and purposes, it’s a little hive of activity here, and that’s brilliant.
But what I’ve been realizing after a month of this is how important a little superficiality is! We are a very intense family and when we get together for dinner, we have these incredible talks. I love them so much, but I realize I also need the kind of light chatting I am used to with friends, that’s not so intense. Too much intensity makes everything basso profundo and we need a little tremolo too. I love them all, my men- they’re brilliant. But, I also could use another female around!
Self-Portrait with Shipwreck (2019), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 72" x 60"
Marjorie Martay–
Too much testosterone around?
Julie Heffernan–
Well, yes and no. They’re not too terribly testosterone-ridden, my men; but for a week, I had a female friend here. A young artist named Virginia Wagner and that was so nice. The conversations were different. So it’s just that idea of the range of people we need in our lives, like a range of tonalities that we need to appreciate the beauty of anything. But I don’t mean to complain because we are so lucky to be up here in Woodstock!
Marjorie Martay–
No, but I think what it says about women is that we do exist on a lot of levels. The more complex we are the more we want to exhibit it in different ways. I can only speak for myself, but sometimes you just want to talk about– “hey did you lose some weight today” or “what are you doing with your hair”– more female things, kind of silly, but it’s true! A lot of times we just get into our heads and we are always talking ideas, philosophy, and that gets exhausting. It’s nice to have a balance, so I get what you are saying.
Julie Heffernan–
I was reading something in the New Yorker by Alexandra Schwartz, a theatre critic. She was writing about theatre criticism when you can’t see any plays.
The piece ended up being about ASMR. It’s a pleasant experience in the brain that comes from subtle sound, and one of the things that turned it into a big fad was people tuning into Bob Ross to help them go to sleep, because of the gentle scratching of the paint brush. The reason I bring it up is because it’s a largely female driven phenomena, and there’s a bunch of videos on the net, which I haven’t looked at yet but which evidently feature women using these mechanisms for calming themselves and their viewers. For example, putting their finger into jigsaw puzzles - the sound of that, putting their fingers into a bowl of M&M’s and the sound of that. These gentle auditory sensations are a way of women soothing other women. I just love that idea.
I haven’t looked up it, because I’ve got so many other things going on, but I love the idea, unlike women talking about fashion or getting their nails done, which I never do. There’s still a kind of conversation among women that is on that subtle level of soothing each other– however that might be done. It could be comparing their nails, I guess, or talking about yoga breathing.
Marjorie Martay–
I think women also tend to be very nurturing. If they can nurture a friend or vice versa, I think it’s very beneficial.
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, or probing each other. I’m thinking about my female friends and I don’t think of them as necessarily just nurturing types, because we are all kind of high-keyed people. But we definitely dig deep into subjects that go to a different place than I do at the dinner table with my boys.
Marjorie Martay–
Talking about the dinner table, have you found that a creative outlet– i.e. cooking?
Julie Heffernan–
Interestingly, we are all taking a different night to cook. Usually I just throw together brown rice and vegetables and it gets a little boring. But, with all of us cooking, everyone brings a different set of tricks to the table. Eating has been really great. We made a great Passover meal on Saturday that my sons and husband mostly did. As I mentioned, I am working on this graphic novel so I’m still putting together my brown rice and broccoli on my nights because I just don’t have time for anything more interesting.
Marjorie Martay–
What’s the novel about?
Julie Heffernan–
The novel may be a boondoggle, but who knows! Slowly over twenty or thirty years, I’ve developed an artist lecture with different iterations. Each time I give it I get a new perspective on the work I show, so it’s evolving. After my last show at PPOW was over I wanted a different kind of project, and it occurred to me that my lecture might be the stuff of an interesting graphic novel. There are a lot of visual things that I need to explicate in the slide talk using imagery that would make sense in a graphic novel form.
What’s challenging of course, is taking what you do in an hour-long slide talk and finding a way to draw that out in a long form graphic novel. Dave Eggers was saying recently– that everybody should write a book, even if it never gets published, because it makes you a better person. It’s true! I don’t know what’s going to happen to this project, but I have already understood things differently as a result. It’s very eye-opening and it’s hard. It’s so so hard. It’s so much harder than painting. So it’s great- why not try? Why not fall on my face?
Self-Portrait with Yellow Dress (2019), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 60"x 52"
Marjorie Martay–
Absolutely. I think it’s really great to have challenges. The worst that happens is that it doesn’t work out as well as you would’ve wanted, but the fact that you tried matters. But, knowing you, seeing your videos and your previous work, I think you will do a great job.
Julie Heffernan–
Well, I’ve never done something that might take ten years and I’m looking at this as a ten year project. Julia Jacquette was telling me that she had written a graphic novel. I am on sabbatical, she was on sabbatical. She said it took her ten years. I said, “You know what? Ok, I’ll shoot for ten years.” So, if it takes me ten years…what a blast to do something for ten years!
Marjorie Martay–
So are you on sabbatical now from Montclair State University?
Julie Heffernan–
Yes I am, so I have not had all these Zoom headaches that my friends are dealing with…I feel so lucky!
Marjorie Martay–
That’s so great– a really wonderful opportunity for you to have intense time to be working on something new. And as you said, if it takes a long time no problem! Now, when you were in Berlin you were working on something called image streaming? Could you explain what that means? What is that process about?
Self-Portrait after Galilee (2018), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 68"x 60"
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, I completely stumbled upon it. It was nothing I had ever heard of it. I remember talking about it in one of my slide lectures. I said, “This thing happened, and I don’t know what it is.” Someone raised their hand and said “It’s called image streaming!” So, whatever we are doing– writing, making music, art– the ten thousand hours that Malcolm Gladwell has talked about– you put in a certain number of hours, weeks, years: there is a point that Malcolm Gladwell described when you gain real expertise. But I think of it more as filling the vessel to overflowing. I had been so intensely engaged in visual thinking that by the time I was in Berlin in 1987, I’d been painting seriously through undergraduate and graduate school– ten to fifteen years– a long time. Each painting, as you can imagine, is its own visual puzzle. I never work out the painting ahead of time with a drawing. I always work it out on the canvas itself, so that involves a lot of staring and mental imagination– if you did this, you could do that, etc– what every artist does.
I had been working on a problematic painting and, as happens most days, there’s a point I reach after I’ve been painting for ten hours or so, when I’m exhausted and need to take a nap. So I did: I passed out: not fully asleep but just reclining on a bed, relaxed. Suddenly, I noticed this flood of images flowing into my brain that were not memories or dreams or daydreams. They were like composite images that made a weird kind of narrative sense, because the brain likes to make sense of things. It was almost as though the brain was taking bits and pieces of visual parts of speech and putting them together into its own type of grammar, with its own type of syntax.
I was in a relaxed state, but again not asleep, so I was able to just watch and marvel. At the same time, it was in conjunction with a time when I was really doubting what I was doing, painting wise. There was a lot of doubt and dissatisfaction in me. So, as this thing was going on and I was inspecting it, I remember thinking: if there is any font of creativity, maybe this is it. And maybe it’s worth throwing out everything I had been doing in order to pursue this. Which I did.
So, in the course of pursuing and talking about it, I found out it’s called image streaming and it’s related to theta wave activity in the brain. I think it happens easily for some people, but for me it hadn’t happened until then. I have based my practice on it in different forms ever since. It’s not quite the same as it was in Berlin, but that idea of letting the brain put together disparate parts that aren’t really making sense into something that does, in order to solve a visual problem, is the same. It has worked for me over and over. I’ve tested it so many times to solve visual problems, and it’s so often successful that I trust it. It’s a different form of intuition. All artists use intuition, but it’s a particularized form of intuition that I had never heard about.
Self Portrait with Trap (2018), Julie Heffernan, Oil
Marjorie Martay–
When this is happening are you jotting down some of these images that come across your mind? How do you remember all of it or are you just storing it?
Julie Heffernan–
That’s where it got interesting. A flood of things would happen in my brain, and just like something flowing down a river– maybe you are able to focus on one of the thousands of things that float past you. So yes, I would tune into one of those pictures and jot it down in a notebook. Then what started to happen is I realized I needed to change my work very radically to accommodate these images, and that’s when I stumbled on the still life. Each of those fruits and round objects could function, I thought, as a kind of screen for the image-streamed picture. I also realized I’d have to teach myself to paint in a more descriptive way, using fine brushwork, so that I could actually do justice to those things I had seen with all their lovely detail.
Here’s how it works: as I would be in the process of painting one of those mental pictures, some new picture would swarm into my brain. Like a Freudian stream of consciousness– it might have welled up related to that first image, or not, but it would then become the next thought bubble. So it became this incredible mental exercise for my conscious brain, to teach itself to be free flowing and receptive to what my unconscious brain would spit out– the composing brain that wants to make sense of its unrelated parts.
Marjorie Martay–
Amazing. Did you find that while you were in this Zen-like space when you are starting a painting that the images would come, or when you were going into a sort of dreamlike state or relaxed period? Could you eventually combine both?
Julie Heffernan–
Interestingly, only once or twice has an image made its way from a dream to a painting. Because, dreams are their own language and as we all know, when people try to explain their dreams, we die of boredom. Except for my husband, who has crazy dreams and I love hearing them…but it seems like with everyone else you kind of hope they will talk fast and be done! I don’t know if that’s your experience, but you know, it’s like people relating a movie– it’s better to see it yourself. What ended up happening was I morphed the process into a different thing, where I make these paintings from an inchoate image that starts the whole process going; that I’ll then jot down on the canvas; and then the painting will tell me what to do and I do it. Inevitably there is a point where the painting stops telling you what to do and you’re stuck– then a different process comes into play.
I remember Bob Yarber talking about that point in a painting where you are facing the painting, the painting is facing you– the painting is throwing homunculi-- little versions of itself -- at you, as though it is alive. It’s a very bizarre but accurate way of describing the artist and the painting communicating with each other.
But in any case, I started this new but related process: you’re painting and you hit a wall; you then place yourself right in front of the painting so that it can start hitting you with its homunculi, telling you it needs something. And this is what would then happen: in my mind I would go through a bunch of different possible solutions – whether they be formal or in terms of content. I would reach a point where none of them would seem quite right and I would get exhausted and pass out, taking usually a quick nap, three-minutes or so. At a point I would wake up and see something in my head, thinking I had found the right answer to the problem I’d been dealing with (it was usually a version of the things I had seen running through my brain before I took the nap). Then I would go up to the painting to execute the “right answer” and my hand would suddenly do something entirely different, but actually better. Each time it happened, I would watch the process, fascinated and trusting. When you are in that state, you can completely trust the process of problem solving. It would always be some version of the right answer.
Self-Portrait with Lock (2018), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 68"x 58"
Marjorie Martay–
Sounds to me like you’re in a Zen-like state. Like a flow starts coming out and the answer is coming from within you– then the flow comes through your hands and into the paintbrush?
Julie Heffernan–
Well yes, I’ve certainly read about the flow state and I’m certain that this is an aspect of it. The fact that it is so particularly visual is interesting to me. However, I guess a writer wouldn’t get an answer in music, they would get it in words. But, in any case, it always feels like a tiny miracle that you really have to be grateful for.
Marjorie Martay–
You seem to have this ability to go deep into yourself and access that unconscious– it all comes out in different ways, but what an amazing process.
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, I’m guessing that every artist has their own version and I love to hear from them. I have a lot of artist friends and I don’t think they go at it quite that way, but anyway I’ve asked them. I think everyone has their own process.
Marjorie Martay–
That would make a great book.
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, that’s why we started “Painters on Paintings”– a blog started by Virginia Wagner and I because we wanted painters and artists to have the opportunity to not just review a painting, but discuss it as an artist would look at it, not as an art historian or a critic per se. It’s always a little bit different how artists see work– they’re all important—the art historians and critics-- but the artist’s take on art has not been as available to us. That’s why we started the blog.
Marjorie Martay–
I studied painting, a little bit, but I did go to the San Francisco Art Institute when I was living in California which is closed now. It’s so sad how funding for many of these schools could not continue. It’s heartbreaking. The reason I bring it up is because we would all get together as artists and critique each other’s works. It’s so different than a major art critic or curator. Having another artist look at your work, then have you talk about it– see what other artists see in your work and talk about each other’s processes– that was the most fascinating way to get together with other artists. It was such an important aspect to creativity.
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, it is. The fear that a lot of older artists have of being back in that vulnerable place that schools forces you to exist in means that this kind of thing doesn’t happen as often as it should.
Marjorie Martay–
You talk about artists that you might be working with… what about artists that really influenced you and your work? I know Bonnard was a fairly early influence for you, and then Velazquez and Poussin? Talk to me a little bit about how they guided or influenced the narrative paintings that you have made?
Self-Portrait with Rescuers (2018), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 64"x 54"
Julie Heffernan–
Growing up in California in a working class home, I hadn’t really seen any art until college. Why I majored in art I still don’t quite understand?
Marjorie Martay–
Maybe you had a vision!
Julie Heffernan–
It’s a very funny thing to wonder about, but all the art that was around me in California or just in general was pretty much Pop or Conceptual Art. I thought it was very fun and I tried to do conceptual art, as we all must do when we are young: try it all. But, when I was 18, I used my babysitting money to get myself over to Europe. I saw the painting of Infanta Maria Theresa in Vienna and was struck dumb, in the best of senses. This feeling that Velazquez in the Maria Theresa paintings was doing something with the female nude that I was hungry for, especially given that the female nude had been thrown out of the art conversation because of feminism, objectification and the male gaze, all that stuff. As a student I was reading about all of that, and agreeing; but nevertheless, having grown up as a Catholic with lots of images of females in pictures of saints and the Virgin Mary. I knew there was something about the female form that I cared desperately about… so there’s the Velazquez painting. She’s not some pretty simpering little gal, she’s kind of homely and has a crazy wig that looks like a sculpture on top of her head that’s mirroring the same shape as her dress. She just looks so exquisitely pathetic, in a way that felt psychological, which is what I wanted from art. I wanted it to take you inside the form. The thing about paintings of saints is this: they might not always be good art, but you were always expected, while contemplating their attributes, to see them as a metaphor for something about their psychic lives. For example, Saint Lucy and her eyeballs and that she sacrificed them for what she believed. I was looking at something there that I was hungry for in art. It was like a finger beckoning me, “come this way.”
The infanta Maria Theresa of Spain, Diego Velázquez, 1652–1653, Oil on canvas
Marjorie Martay–
It was sort of like a spiritual guide for you?
Saint Lucy by Domenico Beccafumi, 1521
Julie Heffernan–
Yes. There were few figurative artists at that time when I was first studying art…there was Bay Area Figuration, David Park and Joan Brown: I loved that stuff. But it was different. I liked the fine detail of being able to see the eyeballs that Saint Lucy is holding. I want a certain amount of particularity, which David Park would never be interested in. He was interested in the paint and the form and I was interested in the paint and the form and the content. So, there’s Velazquez giving me this tremendous content, and it went from there. Bonnard taught me to find the weirdness of the subject in the abstraction itself– in the very structure of the painting, so I needed to learn that. It wasn’t just about the figure in front of you, but the whole composition, saying something about the subconscious or introspection. Poussin taught me structure. Tintoretto was about learning the power of graphic lights and darks. Each of these guys are so different from each other, but each had something specific for my set of needs that I took away from them.
Marjorie Martay–
Well you definitely did. It’s very self-evident when you see your work. It’s extremely impactful and very well formed. What I like about your work is that you paint fantasies but also real world issues. You’ve gone and done work about the environment for example, what made you consider doing that? It seems like you’ve always wanted to confront different issues out there, but in a very narrative way– even talking from a woman’s voice? How did you get there– to those kind of paintings? Maybe that goes back to your visual streaming and the imagery that comes forward there? For example, after Katrina and Sandy, we saw the water rising and if I’m not mistaken you saw mattresses floating around in your image streaming– you did a painting with that and I thought that was incredible!
Camp Bedlam (2016), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 68"x104" (diptych)
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, that was serendipitous because after I did that painting, I found out about the sodden mattresses piled up outside of people’s houses in Baton Rouge where the flood had really hit. This wasn’t Katrina, it was another super storm afterwards. But it was after our own Sandy. With Katrina, it was clear that the game had changed. There was some serious stuff that needed to be talked about, painted about. I have a lot of climate change deniers in my own family so it was time, I thought, to use whatever rhetorical skills I have, not on the level of soap boxing, verbally—but through picture making– so I tried to take it on.
I remember making a painting of a soldier during the Iraq war and it was of a young boy instead of a young girl, as I’d been used to painting. I wanted to do a series of boy paintings, like the series of females with skirts of dead animals– but this series involved them wearing big laden tool belts, full of guns and things. I remember my son coming into my studio and looking at the painting. His face when he glanced at it had a disgusted look, definitely a lack of support! I remember thinking, “Oh god, what you paint is what you want to manifest; and I don’t want to manifest guns.” I wanted to manifest alternatives to guns.
The same thing happened with the landscape paintings about despoliation of the earth. They started to be about oil spills and other calamities; then I realized it was not about the oil spill itself that I wanted to paint, but how we need to create habitats to work with the mess, or clean them up. I wanted to make a positive take on what is a very dire future.
Marjorie Martay–
Well you continued to do that even with “Mending Reflection” which connects culture, mass media, and personal identity. What I found with that is just using the eyes or your person as your center female figure– through her eyes you get to see all this happening. I thought that was a very interesting way of you doing 10 self-portraits. Also, what was so compelling to me was all the incredible women that had been captured in your life like Joan Mitchell, Willa Cather, Luisa May Alcott, Nina Simone, Jane Campion, even Artemisia. You always chose to have these very important women as part of your paintings. Women have really impacted you and it’s the power of these women you’re really talking about– how are they dealing with these issues, what has each done to contribute to where we are today, how does media follow them, it’s all intertwined. When I look at your paintings, that’s one of the things I’m so taken by.
Self-Portrait as Wrangler (2017), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 66" x 68"
Julie Heffernan–
Well yes, artists work alone and one of the reasons that I always tell my students to surround themselves with reproductions of great images is that you are invoking the genius of others as goads, to try to come up with as great of solutions as they would have. The idea is that whether it’s listening to NPR and having all those smart voices in your ear while you’re painting – surround yourself with intelligent perceptiveness, whether it be in a painting, drawing or a journal/story. You’re creating a rich environment in which to hopefully make your own creative contribution. To paint those women was another version of having them in the studio with me. There’s a great Carol Churchill play, “Top Girls.” She invites all of these incredible women from history to the table– Pope Joan, Lady Nijo-a famous geisha, Dull Gret--a bunch of famous women to have a dinner party together. That was what I was thinking, I wanted them to be in the studio with me and to caress their faces with my paint brush as I painted their likenesses.
Marjorie Martay–
It sounds like another version of what Judy Chicago did with “The Dinner Party.” She did it with ceramics, but you’re doing it with paint to honor these women; and Church did it with words!
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, same idea. We create little enchanted realms that we exist in in our studios. It’s a form of make believe that we started out doing as kids. That’s what I’m trying to figure out in this graphic novel– how to go from what you were doing when you were five to what I’m doing now when I’m sixty.
Marjorie Martay–
I have a lovely little grandniece. She’s adorable. She lives in fantasies. She’s always creating stories. She is so verbal and I would love to put you all in touch. She might make you spark something in what you are doing. At that young age, things are so new in color, depth, and intensity– how we connect it is so interesting.
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, I adore imaginative little girls!
Marjorie Martay–
Talking of little girls, what about your next show “Hot Heads” that’s going to be at Catharine Clark Gallery in San Francisco? Can you talk about what that show will be about?
Hot Head (2017), Julie Heffernan, Oil, 78" x 64
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, it came out of “Hunter Gatherer.” I was still very interested in the scrolls that the women are holding. The show felt like a culmination of a lifetime of absorbing and internalizing powerful images and also analyzing images, great paintings, and less than great paintings. What is the difference between a great painting and a propaganda painting? Why do we disavow Bouguereau now? We disavow Bouguereau because he lied to us about female virtue and male power. In Hotheads the scrolls are a way to do that– on one side are these images by David that propagandize for their own version of manifest destiny or male prerogative --systems of thought and the ramifications of them in current day tragedies like global warming. Basically, despoiling the earth in the biblical name of Man over Nature has resulted in completely messing up the earth. So, one side of the scroll shows the propagandistic imagery and the other side of the scroll is the journalistic, truth-telling aspect of it, which is very fun to explore and pair these different takes.
But also the figures changed in this new show. I’m always interested in what emerges out of the figure, whether in terms of the skirt they are wearing or what kind of hair they have, as a metaphorical take on the burgeoning brain. So in the show at Catharine Clark Gallery, the hair is much more elaborate, as a way of talking about the nature of thought emanating from the woman’s head.
But all the work for the show is still stuck in New Jersey, in a warehouse!
Marjorie Martay–
Talking about how the virus has affected you, the show was supposed to be up next week?
Julie Heffernan–
No, it was supposed to open April 4. Then it was going to open on April 17, but Catharine Clark is going to keep it up through the beginning of September, once it opens. So, hopefully things will have calmed down and people will be able to see it!
Marjorie Martay–
I hope so.
Julie Heffernan–
There is going to be a salon wall in the show with a salon-style hanging of work by a bunch of different artists and writers, including Rebecca Solnit, which will be homages to their favorite women. I wanted to invite other artists to contribute to this idea of honoring women or people who identify as women. That is an important event that I hope will happen.
Marjorie Martay–
Have you gotten all the artists together?
Julie Heffernan–
Yes, all the work is at the gallery. It just needs to be put up and open to the public!
Marjorie Martay–
Great, I look forward to seeing it. It’s been a pleasure to talk to you today. I could stay here for hours to hear you talk and hear your stories about how you’ve come to be the painter you are. I see you as a history painter– as a painter who deals with different phases of the female life– a painter who is not afraid to deal with controversial social issues like climate change– and a painter who honors other women who have taken on these issues. What you have done in terms of these incredible narrative paintings, it’s amazing work. There is so much meaning and impact to them. I don’t know if you’ll do anything about the virus but I’ll be curious to wait and see. You are a woman who sees things and it stays within you and comes out in phenomenal ways.
Julie Heffernan–
Well thank you. It does need to brew. I’m sure it’s brewing and I’ll let you know what happens! Thank you for your great questions and conversation.
To view the rest of Julie Heffernan's work, please visit: http://www.julieheffernan.net/